A Pirate and a Gentleman
by ICRepresentative
Summary: What would happen if the Queen's advisor was a pirate in his 'last life'... and someone else knew about it?


Disclaimer: I don't own Barbossa from POTC, nor Walsingham from Elizabeth. More's the pity. (Hey, there's a link there! There's both girls called Elizabeth in those movies, and neither of them are romantically involved with Geoffrey Rush! L-O-freakking-L)

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"I see you kept your ring."

Sir Francis Walsingham, the Queen's most trusted advisor and spymaster, stopped mid-stride to turn and face the speaker. The halls of this room were empty and quiet, and ever Sir Francis did not realize anyone was here.

The kingdom was safe now – all those who had called Her Majesty Elizabeth a heretic and a whore were dead... all but Lord Robert Dudley, of course, but it was Her Majesty's wish to keep that man alive.

And now, here, in the quiet dark stone walls of the palace, going about his duties, Sir Francis Walsingham, loyal to the crown, found himself looking into the eyes of a girl he had not seen for many, many years.

"I see you kept your ring."

Sir Francis smiled and inclined his head at the speaker, then examined his ring. "Not exactly." He said. "It is a little different."

"But the general size and shape is the same." She said, coming forward, out of the darkness. She was thin to the point of emancipation, and deathly pale. Her white looks were further enhanced by the black velvet cloak she had wrapped around her. She smiled, her lips a pale, pale pink that seemed to be almost fading into her skin.

"How long has it been?" She asked, her voice soft and gentle, almost to the point of inaudibility.

Sir Francis smiled. "A great deal of time, if I recall."

She shook her head. "Yet what is time to people like us?" She smiled at him, though there was sadness in her ice-blue eyes.

Sir Francis shook his head, his smile fading. "Please, do not remind me."

She curtsied a little. "Forgive me, captain."

He held up a hand. "You are to address me as 'my lord', now."

She curtsied again, "Then forgive me, my lord."

He smiled, then took a step towards her. "Why are you here?"

She shrugged, her thin bony shoulders showing through the thickness of the cloak. "I wanted to see you again." She smiled. "It seems that you are still doing the things you love." Stealing, lying, killing, torturing...

"Only this time in the name of the crown."

"Yes." She nodded, but seemed distant.

"Why are you really here?" Sir Francis asked, coming as close as he could to the girl without invading her personal space. "This could be no social call. These are dangerous times."

"But it is a social call." She smiled up him. "Do you remember? I painted a portrait of you once. A long time ago." She looked down. "One day, I found that picture had... died."

"Is that how you found me?" He asked.

She shrugged. "Perhaps I tampered with things that were not meant to be tampered with. But for whatever reason, I am a Watcher now. And I see, and saw, many things."

"And what did you see?" Walsingham whispered, in case anyone should overhear.

She looked up at him. "I saw you, Captain Barbossa. I saw you, leaving your piracy behind and becoming a great man. A trusted councilor of the Queen of England. Correcting the mistakes of your past by becoming a great man in the future." Her mouth twisted wryly, "Even if that man still kills for a living."

This time, Walsingham was the one to look away. "Yet?"

She nodded. "Barbossa lived, my lord. His portrait faded, but memory lingers. Although... I do believe that this time, the portrait that hangs in my studio will not die."

Sir Francis smiled at her. "You came to tell me that?"

"I came to wish you well." She seemed to be fading before his very eyes.

"Can you not stay longer?" He asked, reaching for her hand. She pulled back a little, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

"The last woman that shared your bed, Sir Walsingham, ended up dead. Or so I heard."

Sir Francis allowed himself a short smile. "It was for the good of the throne."

"Yes." She said distantly. "Of course."

"But I did not mean it that way. You know that."

She shook her head, laughing gently, and started stepping back into the shadows. Her feet made no sound on the floor. "I will be waiting, Sir Francis. Watching, as I have always have done." She lifted a hand free of the cloak to wave a short farewell. "Do not worry about the future. There shall be another chance for you later on. For villains and heroes both."

Sir Francis watched as the girl vanished. Then he stepped forward, examining the wall and around the pillar, just to be sure that she was who she said she was. But there was nothing. Yes, this girl... she was the one he knew. No doubt about it.

"Sir Francis?"

He turned, and saw one of his attendants watching him.

"Is something the matter, my lord?"

Walsingham smiled. "No, nothing." He looked back at the wall. "Just thought I saw something, I suppose."

As the lord and his retainer walked away, Sir Francis looked down at his ring. In a hundred years or so, this ring would pass to another. And when it did, she would be watching. As she always did.


End file.
